Prologue: L'éxecution

"May he burn in the hell he came from!"

"Yes! Let his head roll!"

"Let his blood bathe the blade!"

The crowds were shouting, in a frenzy, every one of the thousands of hearts in the square was filled with overflowing, sickening joy.

But who could blame them? The Demon King's reign of terror would finally come to an end. Two centuries during which all the sentient races of Sunraf—or, at least, most of them—had to unite in a war to protect their honor from the dark magic emanating from that entity.

And yet the creature seemed so fragile now. Locked in a human form, bound with golden chains to a wooden plank, his neck resting gently under the guillotine blade. On top of the dais, in the midst of the Place De Pierre, there were three people besides the former King of Evil.

The first one, Judge Grégoire Delsarte, extended the long parchment where the sentence for the countless crimes against humanity by the Demon King was written. After clearing his throat loudly, the crowd fell silent, expectant. Holding back a faint smile, he began to read aloud the unanimous sentence that had been passed against that evil ruler.

Next to the creature stood Damien Blanchet, a bishop working in the Holy Chapel inside the Bescond Palace, who was muttering verses from a gigantic purple book. With each word he uttered, the golden chains that held the Demon King seemed to glow brighter.

The third man on the platform, the executioner Jean-Baptiste Moitessier, was dressed in red clothes, almost too elegant for the job he was doing. His hand firmly gripped the lever of the guillotine.

After a few minutes, Delsarte rolled up the parchment again. Looking at the executioner, he gave a slight nod.

Then, with an echo that resounded throughout the square, the heavy silver blade whistled through the air before falling on the monarch's neck...

However, not a drop of blood splashed on the dais. The Demon King had just been decapitated, it was a fact, as his head had undoubtedly fallen into the basket.

A deadly silence filled the place, the civilians held their breath, watching longingly, praying in their minds that the creature would not suddenly rise...

Fortunately, their prayers seemed to have been answered. Ashes emanated from the lifeless body, floating and fading in the air. The smell of sulfur permeated the place. Slowly the corpse disappeared before everyone's expectant eyes. It was not an unknown phenomenon. It was well known that, if a demon was mortally wounded with a blessed weapon, their souls were consumed, and their bodies would not regenerate.

Finally, it was all over... The crowd rose again, shouting for joy. At last, officially, their country was free. Two centuries of war and research about demons had finally paid off.

However, how many lives were lost along the way?

The sentient races would finally have peace... From the cunning and creative humans who shouted and celebrated, to the semi-humans, whose ears and tails were unable to hide such a racket, to the mythical dames blanches who inhabited the forests of the region, whose songs of joy embellished the plants.

And despite all that, there was still someone who seemed incapable of smiling, or even feeling cheerful. His expression was relatively neutral, with a glint of concern in his eyes.

He could perfectly observe the square from the window of his room, in the immense city hall of Bescond. It was a building of elegant architecture, decorated with such pomposity that it did not seem to belong to the square where the public executions took place.

The man carefully held his baby in his arms, as if to protect her from the evil creature that had been executed. The elegant crown resting on the bench of the equally stylish boudoir indicated the very high position he held. He had been the main leader of the Sunraf Revolution for almost twenty-five years, and he could finally take his rightful place as the legitimate heir to the throne, after so many years of his family being relegated to living in the fields as peasants.

He let out a sigh. His soldiers had been able to rescue the baby he was carrying from the ruins of the Demon King's castle. At first, he was reluctant to take her as part of the Royal Family, but... he couldn't refuse either. If the people discovered what she was, his record as monarch would be tarnished even before his official coronation.

No. He had to keep her away from it all. He had to protect her, keep her safe, and then, perhaps, he could keep her dark past sealed along with the secrets of the world in the past.

"I don't know what your father may have named you, but you are a token of the power of the sentient races above the darkness...", he murmured to the baby, who was sleeping peacefully in his arms. "Your name must represent the before and the after of this country."

"Tomorrow is my coronation, and it will be your baptism as a member of the Auguste family. I will not allow the bloody past of your bloodline to destroy all that we have achieved as a race."

As the minutes ticked by, the crowds in the square thinned out. That night, every bar, hall, and home in Sunraf had a party that would be remembered for generations. A party that everyone would remember as the rise of a new era, free from the corrosive evil of the demons.

... Or not?